The Divine Curse
by Isabeau de Foix
Summary: To save ancient Corinth, Hermione, the pure daughter of one of its noblest families is sacrificed to the monster plaguing the town. Is she the one who will break his 200 year curse or will she be forced to forever be the monster Draco's slave? SMUT DMHG
1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in the land of the ancient Greeks, in the lands of the mighty Spartan king Agesilaus and of the glorious Olympian gods, a beautiful baby boy was mothered by the water nymph Narcissa. The child was as fair as the sun God Apollo, with hair of finely spun golden thread and skin as pale as alabaster. His silvery blue eyes shone like the depths of Poseidon's kingdom, with wisdom no mere mortal babe would ever possess. Even within his first few days on Earth, the child exuded a silent power which foretold of many things to come.

His overjoyed mother named him Draco.

His childhood was a happy and blissful one. He was raised alongside water and forest nymphs within the untouched northern Greek landscape with its lush forests, sapphire ponds and undiscovered mountains. His mother made sure to keep him away from troublesome mortals until he was able to care for himself.

His childhood bliss did not last very long however, since Hera, Queen of the Gods, had set her jealous gaze upon him ever since his birth. For you see dear reader, our young Draco was not the mere son of a water nymph; he had been fathered by the King of the Gods himself, the almighty Zeus. The slighted Hera, wounded and bitter due to her husband's many indiscretions vowed her vengeance upon the water nymph that had lured her husband away, sadly turning a blind eye upon her husband's many faults. The vindictive Goddess realized, however, that the best way to execute her vengeance on the mother would be by hurting her precious son.

For eighteen years she watched the boy thrive and grow into a magnificent young man, befit of the envy of every God in Olympus and bathed in their every favour. Aphrodite, the Goddess of love and beauty had bestowed upon him to gift of charm, making it so no woman would ever be able to resist his allure. Ares, God of war had made the boy a skilled fighter, a worthy match even to the legendary Achilles himself. Athena, the goddess of battle had given him the gift of wisdom far beyond his years. Artemis, the virgin Goddess of the hunt had given him the gift of magnetism, so that no creature, mortal or otherwise, would ever be able to defy him. Lastly, Artemis' twin brother, the golden God Apollo had given the young Draco the gift of luck.

Thus, upon his eighteenth birthday, the goddess Hera finally gave him her divine gift as well. This was far from being any gift however, for she cursed him in the most savage of ways. Enraged by Draco's beauty and favour with mortals and Gods alike, she cursed him so that by the light of day he would turn into a horrendous serpent like monster who could only feed upon the souls of mortals so as to survive another day. Only by the light of the silent weeping moon would he return back to his mortal form and miserably await the coming of another day. She had forsaken him to roam the world of the mortals, his burning hunger never to be satisfied except by the hand of his true mate, a mortal, whom Hera wagered he would likely never find. Only if he found her would the curse be broken, transforming him back into a mortal.

The horrified Narcissa cried for many days and nights for the fate of her only child. She cried because she knew the innocent boy, now a man, had no fault in this. Rather, it was she that was being punished for lying with the God of Gods so many years before. She made her way to mount Olympus and upon reaching her destination threw herself at the feet of Zeus and cried until she could cry no more. She then retold him the sad story of her son, imploring the almighty God to vanquish the evil curse, for Draco was his son as well.

Zeus was saddened by the fate of his child and infuriated by the invidious nature of his wife, Hera. He sat in quite thought for many hours, formulating some possible solution to this problem. He knew that he could not remove the curse, for that would enrage his wife even further, thus leading to even more catastrophes within the realm of mortals as well as within that of Gods.

After much deliberation, he decided upon a final course of action, and thus gave Draco his final godly gift. Zeus first visited his daughters, the three Moirae who dictated the ultimate destiny of each mortal on Earth. He ordered them to spin a different thread for his son Draco, in which he would find his mate though ultimately, it would be his own task to gain her affection. His mortal mate could be only the purest maiden of the realm. The mighty Zeus then gave his son Draco the gift of immortality, which would elevate him to the rank of lesser God and provide all the powers associated with such a position, upon breaking the curse.

The great and powerful Zeus viewed this as a fair exchange. Draco's curse would serve as a test of sorts, and upon completing this challenge he would be able to take his rightful seat among the Gods of Olympus.

---

_Two Hundred Years Later _

For many long and dreadful months, the majestic town of Corinth had been plagued by horrendous misfortune. The crops had failed, the majority of their cattle had been killed, and numerous men and women had been found dead within their own houses, some ripped to shreds while others lay with their eyes still open, a look of utmost terror upon their lifeless faces. Most shocking among all, however, had been the damage caused to the sacred temple of the divine Goddess Hera that now remained in ruins, its holy priestesses desecrated and slain.

After much deliberation, King Periander of Corinth, advised by the wise elders of the ancient city came to a final conclusion. It was clear that the only way to satisfy the beast attacking their magnificent city was by offering it a sacrifice. Thus, based on the killings that had taken place within the city, many having consisted of young maidens, the cunning king decided it would be best to offer the creature who plagued his people a virgin sacrifice.

The task of selecting a girl was a daunting, thus the king decided it would be best to first consult the famed Pythia, priestess of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. Though her wise words were vague, they made it clear to the king that only the daughter of noble birth would be suited to satiate the beast's hunger. The oracle also explicitly stated that the girl had to be of the purest virtue, both in mind and body, otherwise they would insult, rather than satisfy the daemon.

The noble families of Corinth were terrified by this prediction, all wishing to shield their daughters from such a cruel fate. Thus, it was with a collective sigh of relief that they accepted the final sacrificial choice, Hermione, daughter or the famed military general Ariesteus. The shrewd king had made what he believed to be the wisest decision, for he realized the young girl would not be missed by many apart for her father, who would likely be brought to his knees by the impending fate of his only child, thus no longer posing a threat to the throne.

For you see dear reader, it was common knowledge among the people of the time that the fair lady did not make the best of impression. She was stubborn and viewed by many as quite arrogant. Her father had always wanted a son, thus upon her birth, he made the choice of raising his young daughter as a boy. She was provided with the best tutors of the time to cultivate her young mind and shape her ideas. She was instructed in philosophy, mathematics, history and culture, as well as in the art of combat, a privilege rarely extended to young women. Though female, she achieved in making her stern military commander of a father a very proud man, though he only rarely showed it.

Thus by the age of seventeen, the young Hermione had an education that rivalled that of many male heirs of the noblest families and her analytical mind did not put this knowledge to waste. Her upbringing had shaped her into a formidably critical and logical person. Unlike the girls her age, she was not concerned with young poets and soldiers, but rather with her precious scrolls. The only people whose presence she did bare, apart from that of her father, were philosophers, with whom she would proceed to start heated debates over the most minute of things as exercise to her keen mind and sharp wit.

Many disapproved of such display from a mere girl as they continued to believe that academia was not the proper field of study for a young daughter of favourable heritage. Hermione's icy demeanour and aloof nature further incited this disapproval. Unlike the other young girls of her age, she was not a sweet and caring creature, but rather cold and often even rude, aspects which could only be outshined by her formidable beauty, a feature which she was thoroughly unaware of. Many young boys had begged for her hand, confessing their passionate love in the most ridiculous ways, though they had all been dismissed away by the girl's stern father or by her own cruel words.

She had no time for men, or so she stated. She was not blind to the many disadvantages posed to her by her unfortunate gender, and so she had no desire to further these disadvantages by placing herself at the mercy of a man. Her father was the only man who understood her, and he offered her the degree of freedom which she desired. Thus, she saw no advantage in becoming a slave to the whims of another. Especially not for the pure purpose of love, a sentiment which she was highly sceptical of, and which in that day and age would likely last a few years at most, after which she would be replaced by a mistress, forced to lead the remainder of her days in isolation, tending to unwanted children.

Thus our story leads us to the fateful day upon which the sacrifice was to be held. The royal guard was expected to arrive once the sun reached its highest peak within the cerulean sky to escort the young Hermione through the streets of Corinth to the temple of Aphrodite, patron Goddess of the ancient city. Though this was meant to be a tradition of high honour depicting the courage and virtue of the sacrifice, Hermione knew better. It was meant to pacify the people, while the royal guard was in place so as to make sure she would not run.

She sat on a low stool in her chamber, awaiting for her maid to finish coiffing her hair. Her father stood silently, leaning against a wall, a grim expression on his face as he gazed at his stoic daughter. As per custom, she had been clothed in the utmost luxury so as to depict that she was of noble blood and social standing, though she highly doubted the creature would care what colour her chiton was as he ate her.

Once the maid had finished detailing her hair, Hermione dismissed her and stood so as to survey her appearance in the polished silver mirror opposite her. She wore a chiton of pure white made of the softest silk and draped delicately around her slight body. The long rectangular piece of fabric had been draped so as to accentuate her womanly figure, though only slightly, and pinned above her right shoulder, left to drape delicately around her arm. A gold, braided griddle was tightened around her mid section, accentuating her tiny waste. Her golden brown waves were intricately braided and pinned in an elaborate fashion atop her head while a simple golden band was pinned within her curls.

The clothing was far more extravagant than she usually wore; however, it was tradition that the sacrificial virgin be clothes in the style of a bride. She considered this a rather ironic fact as they were sending her to her death, but she had no will to complain at the moment. For the majority of her life, majority had represented a sort of death for her, thus it was almost fitting, in an unusual way.

She turned around so as to face her quiet father whose anguished gaze had never once left her figure. She approached him slowly, silently.

"Dear father, do not be distressed by my fate," she finally said, careful in choosing her words. "It is the gods' will and a great honour for our family."

At these words, her father snorted in disgust. "Yes, a terribly important honour especially since it offers that coward Periander the chance of ruining me. Make no mistake child, this is not fate, it is politics," he said in disgust.

"Even so father, you must not allow this to break your spirit. If it is politics as you wisely maintain, then he shall get what he deserves, for I feel that the father of the sacrificial daughter that saved Corinth will certainly be held in high regard by many," replied Hermione. "An advantage that shall allot you much power which can be used against the tyrant king."

"But at what cost, dear child?" he replied, his weariness overcoming him as he sat on a nearby stool. "It is not power but peace that I want. I have lived my life successfully, fighting for the glory of Corinth and yet this is how my family and I are repaid?"

"That is precisely what he wants of you father. He wants to break you, he wants you to give up, but you shan't give in to his provocation!" exclaimed his enraged daughter, a fire sparkling deep within her eyes. "If not for your own self, than at least for me, your only daughter. I shall not be peaceful even in death knowing that that tyrant is allowed to continue his bloody reign. Many have been slighted by him in much the same way that he slights, you father. Do not allow him to go unpunished. You are the greatest military leader to ever have fought for Corinth. People are bound to join your cause, and under your rule and wise leadership, the battle may yet be won."

"You are wise beyond your years, child. Yet as I have said before, it is not power that I want. What parent could ever trade the life of their only child for power," he replied, his dark eyes swimming in a sea of anguish. "However, if this is you dying wish, I shall do as you ask of me and shall avenge your name in the only way that I can."

"Dear father, you have always taught me to be strong and fearless in the face of adversity. I have not forgotten your many lessons. Though I know my fate is unfair, perhaps it is indeed what the Gods will. I only ask that you do not allow the tyrant king to further bestow such "honour" on other innocent souls," she said, her words were soft though full of meaning. Ariesteus came forth and embraced his daughter tightly, a rare display of affection.

"May Zeus have mercy on you, dear child," he said as he let her go. At that instant, a curt knock was heard, denoting the arrival of the royal escort. Hermione held her father's gaze a minute longer, for the first time feeling her courage falter, though she did not allow him to see this. She was his strength and if she were to give up, she could not bear to think what would happen to her dear father.

She opened the door of her chamber, glancing around the medium sized room that had been her sanctuary for the majority of her life. This would be the last time her eyes would fall upon its painted walls, the dark wooden desk with scrolls spread upon its surface and the medium sized recliner bed. She immediately tore her eyes away, willing for her courage to come back as she walked towards the courtyard where the guard awaited.

The trip through the streets of Corinth had been agonizingly hot as the midday sun mercilessly shone upon her uncovered shoulders. Hermione did not allow her discomfort to show, however, as she walked with her back straight, head held high and eyes cold and unfaltering. Her challenging gaze pierced anyone who dared hold it for a second too long, whether out of pity or mere curiosity. She was certain that she was not the sight expected by many people. They would have anticipated a whimpering girl being dragged through the streets, begging to be released from such a cruel fate. Hermione was the exact opposite of that, her icy demeanour suggesting confidence and aloofness rather than hysteria.

They finally approached the temple of Aphrodite on the outskirts of the city after what felt like hours. The ceremony was long and boring, with many prayers being offered to the Olympian gods before the high priestess finally focused her attention on Hermione. One she had been blessed and anointed, she was ready to be presented as the holly sacrifice. They first tied her wrists together, securing them behind her back before tying her to the outdoor alter as she lay on it.

She viewed the entire process as tiring and rather barbaric as she had no intention of running, however, she kept her sharp words to herself, praying for it to be over soon. By that point in time, the young Hermione felt that even facing the beast would be more pleasurable than what she was being put through. Her arms were burnt from the prolonged exposure to the scorching July sun and her legs ached from walking all day.

The setting sun announced the finish of the ceremony. The crowds began to clear away from the temple and back to their dwellings, a strange collection of emotions having washed over them. Though they hoped the attacks would now stop allowing them to go back to their regular way of life, they had all been strangely affected by the stoic young girl tied to the altar, courageously, almost defiantly, awaiting the fate bestowed upon her. They felt admiration, mingled with a strange envy. Many had expected a show today, but had not received one as the girl refused to react at all. It seemed as if she had almost come to terms with her fate.

---

I'm working on my two other stories right now as i want to finish them before I continue posting so I don't make you guys wait forever in between chapters. This is just a little something I cam up with that's been plaguing my mind for the past little way. It will be a short three or four part story. I got inspired by the Psyche and Cupid story so I decided to write it Draco and Hermione style. Hope you enjoy it, drop me a line and tell me what you think. Oh, and it's rated R for a reason, so be warned ;).


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stifled a yawn as the last of the throngs of people made their way back towards the city. She felt that she would fall asleep before the monster ever made his grand appearance.

She felt herself swimming in and out of consciousness as she watched the sky above, praying for something but not quite sure for what. She was unusually calm considering the fate that welcomed her quite shortly and was quite intrigued by this sole fact. Perhaps her subconscious had somewhat known all along.

The young Hermione was soon pulled out of her reverie, however, by a strange sound coming from the distance. She strained her ears, attempting to decipher the noise which to her sounded like a strange flapping. She felt a cold dread wash over her as she looked up into the sky and saw a large creature flying hastily towards her. The thing resembled nothing she had ever seen before, nor did it pertain to any descriptions which she had read. It was large and serpent like. Its body was covered in large silvery scales while large wings protruded from its muscular back. The thing was at least five times her size.

As it landed down before her, she felt her scream catch in her throat. She was petrified. The creature examined her closely, its silver eyes cold and analytical. She could feel the bile rise in her throat as it approached her. She closed her eyes, hastily awaiting what would happen. She prayed that it would not hurt too much as she died, wishing for it to be quick and painless. Suddenly she felt her bindings being ripped from where she was secured to the altar.

She then felt a searing pain against the side of her head where something hard had just hit her. She could feel herself quickly losing consciousness. The last thing she saw before everything went black was the landscape below as she was now hundreds of feet in the air in the clutches of the silver monster.

---

She felt strangely warm and comfortable. This was the first thing she noticed upon regaining consciousness, though she did not open her eyes just yet, cherishing the feeling. She wondered whether this was death, for if it indeed was, the whole ordeal had passed quite fast and painlessly.

Her amber eyes finally did open, taking a few seconds to adjust to her surroundings. She was in a surprisingly spacious chamber. The small slit like windows indicated that it was dark outside still, thus causing her to believe that she had not slept for too long. She now lay in a large bed, different than the ones she had been accustomed to back in her home. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

Hermione pulled back the blankets that covered her, struggling to get up from the large bed. Once on her feet, she noted that she no longer wore the ceremonial robes she had previously had on, and was now enveloped in a thin white gown which barely covered her modesty. Her caramel curls had also been let loose, and now cascaded around her shoulders. A cold shiver of dread washed down her spine as she wondered who could have possibly changed her, though she fought hard to suppress the thought.

"You finally awake, I see," said a voice from behind her causing Hermione to gasp in shock. She swiftly turned around, searching the darkness for the speaker, who was undoubtedly male.

Only then did she notice him, leaning against the furthest wall, watching her nonchalantly, though a predatory glint shone sharply in his eyes. She immediately took a step back, attempting to retreat somewhere, anywhere. This only caused the stranger to chuckle, his voice deep and velvety. He pulled himself from his position and slowly, casually began to advance towards her. She backed away from him until she felt the hard surface of the wall meet her back.

"Now, now, don't be scared little kitten. I mean you no harm," he purred once he finally stood in front of her. "At least not yet."

His words caused her to inhale sharply, terrified yet strangely mystified by the man before her. A ray of moon light flowed through one of the many windows, illuminating his features. He was certainly unlike any man she had seen before. He was much taller than the men she was accustomed to seeing in Corinth, towering over her impressively. He wore a simple night tunic made of white linen, which allowed her to glimpse his flawless skin. It was as if he was carved out of ivory, flawless, delicate yet strong. His entire stance exuded animal like strength which was further mirrored by his muscular built. His skin was so pale she wondered if he had ever seen the sun.

As Hermione stared up at him she noted his eyes were light and resembled the colour of silver. His hair was slightly dishevelled as pale strands fell into his eyes. He contrasted Greek men in every aspect, she noted in fascination, wondering whether he came from the northern tribes or whether he was a God upon earth.

He patiently watched the mortal before him as she examined him in awe. A lazy smirk began to take shape upon his lips as he noted her awe, mentally thanking Aphrodite for her generous gifts.

"Where am I?" asked the small female before him. Her voice was much stronger than he would have believed. He was intrigued by her courage.

"You are in my palace," he replied.

"As guest or prisoner?" Her question caused a deep chuckle to escape his lips.

"I suppose that it is up to you. You can be whichever you wish to be as it is dependent upon your own comportment, so act wisely," he replied, his words shrouded in mystery though she did not miss the veiled threat.

"What do you mean by that?" she finally asked before contemplating what she would say for a few minutes.

"If you follow my wishes, you shall be treated like a queen. If you fail to do so, however, you shall be treated as exactly what you are," he replied.

"And what may that be?" she asked, narrowing her golden eyes to glare up at him.

"A sacrifice, a woman, a prize," he listed, angering her further with every word. "But most importantly you are my possession now."

"Your possession?" cried Hermione in outrage before pushing past him and walking towards the centre of the room. "I think not. I belong to no one."

"Ah, but you are mistaken, my dear," he whispered, advancing towards her with alarming speed. "You _are_ mine. Those foolish mortals chose you as my sacrifice, so now you belong to me and I can choose to do whatever I deem necessary with you."

"You are mistaken, sir," she spat back in anger. "I was given as a sacrifice to the terrible beast terrorizing Corinth, not to you. I was meant for it as I was to be, well, eaten I supposed. Since no where do I see said beast, I am inclined to believe that I may leave whenever I choose to, as it failed to accomplish its task."

Her reply caused another deep chuckle to erupt from deep within his throat. "You don't say? Well I assure you, fair maiden, that since this beast also belongs to me, then you by default belong to me as well. And I assure you, no one shall be eating you any time soon, at least not in that sense of the word."

"W-what do you mean?" she whispered, her naivety preventing her from understanding the meaning of his words. "And who exactly are you?"

"You may call me Draco," he replied, hungrily gazing down at her. The more time he spent within the mortal woman's presence, the more convinced he became. She was definitely the one he had searched for his entire life. Her sweet aroma intoxicated his thoughts and caused his blood to boil with desire. He felt his control slowly wearing thin as the beast within fought for release. "And what might your name be, mortal?"

"Hermione."

"Like the daughter of Helen whose face launched a thousand ships. The name is quite befitting for you, woman," he replied, slowly starting to advance towards her. He slowly circled her petite form, allowing his hungry eyes to take in every centimetre of perfection, before stopping in front of her once more. "Now I understand why they have hid you from me for so many centuries."

"W-what do you mean by that?" she stammered, chilled by the strange man's words.

"Every soul in this world is destined for another," he began, his chilling eyes piercing hers. "You are destined for me."

"That's preposterous, how can you assume that?" she replied in outrage.

"So naive, my dear Hermione. I assure you that I know. The Gods make it so each and every one of us knows when they have met their match, and in your case, you are more valuable to me than you can even imagine," he said, his eyes not leaving her frightened orbs.

"But enough with that, I have no desire to continue this discussion until later perhaps. Right now I intend to properly claim what's rightfully mine," he said as he twined an elegantly long finger into one of her golden curls.

"I do not permit you to do so!" she screeched in outrage. "Besides, if what you say is true, I do not feel any link to you. You are a mere stranger thus I am caused to think you have made a mistake, and should allow me my freedom."

"No mistake has been made girl, of that I assure you. But we shall soon determine whether I am right or wrong," he sneered, roughly grabbing her forearm. "Furthermore, even if I am incorrect in my assumption you still belong to me and I can do with you as I wish. Your townspeople clearly sacrificed you to me in conduct to the rules of the oracle, and so that is the end of the argument."

"Th-they didn't fully listen to your wishes. The oracle stated that only the purest maiden could be sacrificed and I am most certainly not the purest. They gave me due to politics and nothing else, for the king feared my father posed a threat," she stammered, trying to come up with a defence for herself.

"That is all very interesting but as I said, I don't care whether the exact specifics were followed or not," he replied, pulling her towards him.

"B-b-but I... I'm not a virgin!" she finally said, her eyes pleading for mercy. Her words caused him to stop for a second and gaze down at her, his eyes having darkened dangerously. A flash of anger passed his features but it was gone as fast as it came as a knowing smirk took shape upon his ruby lips.

"Good. I would not want your first time to be so rough," he finally replied with a wicked glint in his eyes before roughly capturing her lips in a kiss.

She tried to push him away, but he only pinned her hard against a nearby wall, his teeth suckling her lower lip into submission. She allowed a small whimper of distress to escape her lips, though he took the opportunity to sweep his tongue into her mouth, hungrily tasting and exploring. The kiss was by no means a gentle one, but rather it established his dominance.

Hermione continued to fight against him, and claw at his chest, which caused him to push her harder into the wall, making her cry out in pain.

"You will submit to me, mortal. I promise you that if you fail to do so you shall thoroughly regret it," he harshly whispered against her lips. "And I assume that for such a worldly woman you know perfectly well what that means. This can go both ways: you can either enjoy it or not. And I guarantee that I have no qualms about hurting you if it will make you obedient. I have waited too long."

His words caused her to whimper in fear as her golden eyes widened in shock. She had never been treated so vulgarly by anyone, and she desperately feared what was to come. In the meantime, he began to sprinkle kisses along her collarbone, nipping at the soft skin.

"You are delectable," he whispered, his voice surprisingly gentle as he pushed a strand of honeyed hair away from her face. "Give yourself to me."

Her startled amber eyes gazed up and met his heated gaze. His silver orbs where clouded by something that she was unable to identify. No man had ever looked at her that way and it frightened and exhilarated her at the same time. She did not know how to react to her situation. She didn't want him to proceed, she didn't want him to hurt her, but at the same time, she realized that he was unrelenting. So was her pride worth her fighting him, and loosing? Or would it be better for her to simply give in and make the best of her situation? At least she was still alive, and she would continue to be as long as she obeyed him.

Her shocked expression made him stop and gaze down at the mortal before him. He realized that she was quite young, younger than he had been when he had been immortalized. A brief twinge of guilt erupted within his heart, a mortal feeling which he had long forgotten. As much as he desired to claim her immediately as his, something made him stop. He ran a gentle finger down the side of her face, attempting to decipher the confusion he noted in her eyes.

Was her resolve breaking, perhaps?

"Will you finally give in to me?" he purred, his voice low and sultry against the shell of her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed, relishing the hypnotic power of his voice, however, a small fragment of sanity still controlled her brain.

"I will," she whispered in reply. "But please, give me a day to adjust to the circumstances. It is all I ask. I promise you that tomorrow I shall be fully yours and you have permission to do with me as you wish."

He pulled away slowly and regarded her silently, processing her plea calmly, though a battle of wills was currently taking place inside. The beast within him snarled at her request, silently demanding that he make her his own after decades of anticipation. Yet the human, the part that he had suppressed for so long, came out now, and demanded that he give in to her request if he wished for her to ever trust him.

Finally, he inclined his head benevolently, "Very well, but you will only get one night. Tomorrow, I shall be back for you and there will be no negotiating then. As I said, I have waited far too long."

"Thank you. But what exactly is it that you have been waiting for. I do not understand," she replied, her brow furrowing in confusion as she glanced up into his mercurial eyes.

"All will be revealed in due time, my pet," he replied cryptically. "Now rest. I shall be back for you tomorrow," he said as he pressed a lingering kiss onto her cherry lips. Unlike his previous, however, this was much gentler, causing a strange heat to run through her veins and settle at the bottom of her womb where it throbbed painfully. The feeling unsettled her as it was something she had yet to have experienced.

Without another word, he left the chamber, leaving her alone with only her thoughts for company. She immediately collapsed on the bed, her body and mind both drained from the startling confrontation. Earlier that day, she certainly would have never thought she would find herself in such a strange position.

For one, she was not dead. On the contrary, she was very much alive and at the mercy of her ethereal captor. Now that she had time to think, she began to categorize the events of the day, though her mind constantly jumped back to the man in question and the feelings he stirred up in her. Apart from the terror she felt at being at his will, there was also something else. Something she was unable to name but was very conscious of.

The feel of his lips and taste of his mouth were seared within her mind, while the moment played itself within her memory over and over again. She could almost feel the flush of her face but dared not linger on these thoughts, though they continued to exist in her subconscious.

She thanked the Gods that he had allowed her to rest tonight as opposed to making her engage in other activities. She was certainly not ready for any of that as she knew very little about the happenings between men and women within the private chambers of a house. It had never been a subject of interest to her as she failed to see its relevance to her own life, especially considering she did not intend to marry. But now things had drastically changed as she was meant to be this strange man's concubine for lack of a better term.

The thought horrified her.

She belonged to nobody.

Her mind immediately set to action as she decided the only thing to do was look for an escape before he came back for her the following evening. She decided that since it was night still and she was in an unknown place, it would be best to rest and await the new day's arrival before acting.

Thus as Hermione settled into the luxurious folds of the bed she closed her eyes and attempted to fall asleep. Soon she was lulled into a deep slumber, with thoughts plagued only with images of her strange captor named Draco who would be sure to visit her dreams that night.

***

Will Hermione slept, Draco paced nervously within his own chamber, fighting the urge to burst into her room and claim her as his. He had not realized that having her there, so close and yet so untouchable would affect him in such a way. His rational side attempted to reason with the beast. He had been patient for so many centuries, how could one more night compare.

Yet these thoughts still could not pacify him nor his rigid member. He needed some sort of release before he lost all control as well as his sanity. Her sweet musk continued to engulf his senses and cause his blood to boil. There was no possible way that he would allow her to deter him the following evening, of that he was certain.

And after he claimed her, the curse would be broken and she would be his forever to do with as he pleased. He certainly intended to have her screaming his name in ecstasy before the rays of sun could peak above the horizon announcing Apollo's arrival.

With that wicked thought in mind, he left the room with only one destination in mind. He intended to get release that night, and if it would not be from her, from his Hermione, than it would have to be form someone else.


End file.
